Five Alarm
by ImaSupernaturalCSI
Summary: Fires are breaking out all over New York. Danny will have to make the toughest decision of his life.
1. Chapter 1

**Greetings to all, I have returned with another installment in my Danny Lindsay universe. You might want to read "Going After Montana" and "Forever" before reading this one, but this can standalone.**

**A few minor notes- I've never been to New York. So I couldn't tell you if there's a 5th and Rhodes on Staten Island. I make 'em up as I go along.**

**And yes, I did watch the episode "Obsession" where Danny talks about his Mother and her... cooking I think. But in my universe, there isn't a Mrs. Messer (Lindsay or otherwise :). Give me a little creative leeway, yeah?**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of CSI:NY; they belong to CBS and Anthony Zuiker.**

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**Chapter One**

Summer in New York means baseball, NBA finals, the peak of tourist season…and the time-honored tradition of the block party.

Staten Island was bouncing. Especially at the corner of Fifth and Rhodes. Every year, over a hundred people showed up to eat, play games and jam at the home of Aaron and Elizabeth McCann.

The house itself was no big deal, just a blue two-story. What made it a party destination was the huge backyard, mostly unheard-of in New York. The McCann's backyard boasted a fish pond and pool, along with a fireplace on the deck. Aaron McCann prided himself on the redwood deck, which he'd made himself. The landscape designer had planned the house and the backyard. A California native, he'd met his wife, a native New Yorker, on Spring Break in Santa Barbara. When he made the decision to move to New York with his wife, he wanted to bring the party atmosphere of sun and sand back with him. Adding to the California air of the house was a small sand beach-no lie- that lay between the fish pond and the pool. He'd even rigged up a beach volleyball net. It had been so dry in New York the past couple of days that the pool was getting a full year's worth of use in just a few short hours. The entire backyard was fenced in, save for a small gate on the back wall. "Barbara Ann" by the Beach Boys blared on the expensive sound system.

"California Dreamin'." That's what they called the annual party. Most of the McCann's neighbors worked through the majority of the year, and most of them, in this neighborhood, in low end jobs. This was their chance to get away, even if it was only down the block to a neighbor's house.

"Cameron!" Aaron McCann yelled at his sixteen year old son. Cameron looked up from the pool.

"What?"

"Go dry off, it's almost time to eat!"

"Okay, Dad." Cameron climbed out of the pool. He was closely followed by his girlfriend of two years, Jess Carlisle. It amazed Cameron's parents sometimes how close they were; Jess was almost an extension of Cameron, the two were practically joined at the hip.

The music was loud. The food smelled amazing. People talked about their jobs, the Mets, the Yankees, politics. Kids ranging in age from Missy Stevenson's eight month old daughter to Kelly and Lyle LaRue's twenty-two year old daughter who had just graduated from Georgetown ran around the yard, oblivious of everything in the world.

Nicole Keenan had just walked out of the house from using the McCann's bathroom as Cameron McCann brushed by her. He was followed by a girl. Nicole smiled, hey, she'd been young once. It made sense that the two of them wanted to get away. She stopped a moment as she caught an odor of something. She wrinkled her nose. _Smells like gas_. She looked over at Aaron McCann. _Ah. Must be the grill._ She returned to the party and soon forgot all about the smell.

Cameron McCann ran into his room. "I'll be out in a sec," he told Jessica. He found a pair of jeans that looked somewhat clean on his floor. He found a Green Day t-shirt and threw it on. Then he smelled it.

Smoke. He came out of his room and grinned at Jessica. "Smells like my Dad botched yet another barbecue," he said.

Jessica coughed. The air around the two teens was hazy. "I don't think that's outside, Cam," Jessica replied nervously.

Cam followed his nose into the living room. It was stronger, there. Then he looked out the living room window and realized that the entire front wall was engulfed in flame.

"Jess!" he yelled. "We gotta get outta here!" He grabbed her hand, coughing, and ran out the patio doors. "Dad! Dad, the house is on fire!"

Aaron McCann dropped his tongs. Someone stopped the music. All turned and watched flames licking up over the roof of the house. Some now, were starting to creep around to the back of the home. "Someone call 911!" Elizabeth McCann yelled from the volleyball court.

Instead, people panicked. Some ran for home, scooping up confused children who became terrified by their parents' strange behavior. It was Cameron McCann who finally called 911 and reported the fire.

Aaron McCann tried to get close to the fire with an extinguisher, but it was too hot. He could only stare from his neighbor's backyard as the house he had planned and built with his own two hands crumbled into a blackened, charred mess.

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"It looks like the fire started outside, here," Detective Don Flack said, pointing out the blackened front wall of the McCann home. The entire right hand side of the house was a charred frame, while the left side of the place wasn't much better off.

Detective Danny Messer studied the area around it. "Looks that way. You find anything nearby, gas can, lighter fluid, maybe?"

Flack shook his head. "We haven't seen anything yet."

Danny pointed to a man getting checked over by the paramedics. "That the owner?"

"Yup. Aaron McCann, age 35. His wife and kid are over there." Flack pointed to where Elizabeth and Cameron were also being given the once-over. "The kid went into the house to change, smelled smoke. Didn't bother to just leave the house, instead, he went looking for the fire. Suffered minor smoke inhalation. He was with his girlfriend Jessica Carlisle at the time."

"I hate fire." Danny said, opening his kit. "It makes it almost impossible to find evidence."

Behind him, on the street, a black Chevy Avalanche pulled up. Detectives Mac Taylor and Stella Bonasera climbed out and surveyed the scene. Mac saw Danny and came over. "How'd you get here so fast?" he asked him.

Danny pointed. "I was over visiting my dad when my pager went off," he explained. He relayed what he'd learned from Flack to Mac and Stella.

"First place to start looking is that front wall," Stella said, donning a pair of latex gloves. Mac and Danny followed suit.

Flack went over to talk with Aaron McCann. "Mr. McCann, did you see anyone go around to the front of the house at all?"

He shook his head. "No. I manned the barbecue. There were over a hundred people in my yard, Detective. It would have been impossible to keep tabs on them all."

Flack groaned inwardly. _Great. That means a hundred possible arsonists._

He glanced over and saw an officer taking a statement from a woman with a baby in her arms. _Okay. We can rule out the baby. Ninety-nine suspects to go._

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_**Rumor has it there's this little blue button down under this sentence. Supposedly if you click on it, you get to tell me how you like this story...come on...it'll be fun...**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to my reviewers, things are a little slow right now, but give me time! I'm not real sure how I want this one to pan out yet, hence the semi-long wait for chapters.**

**Fair warning: I may be taking bit of creative license with Danny's home life...**

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Chapter Two:

"Seriously, Montana, you shoulda seen the place. The guy built a California beach in his backyard!"

Danny Messer had seen a lot of things in his line of work.

But it was the first time he'd seen a sand beach in suburban New York. "I don't know how he paid for the place. He built it from the ground up himself. There's a pool and a fish pond and the beach, it's like Venice Beach flew across the country and landed in this guy's yard!"

Lindsay Monroe shook her head. "Aaron McCann must make more money than the rest of the people in that neighborhood. The rest of the houses in Stella's photos weren't near as decked out as that one."

"Speaking of the deck," Danny continued on his tangent. "Redwood! Fireplace, barbecue pit, the works. All he needed was a place to bury the pig, and he coulda had his own luau."

"He's not done gawking over that house yet?" Stella Bonasera asked as she came into the trace lab behind Danny and Lindsay. "You've lived on Staten Island for how long?"

"My entire life- thirty some years," Danny shot back. "But that wasn't there when I was growin' up, and I'm not too keen on roaming the neighborhood, y'know?"

"Too lazy to go take a walk?" Stella teased.

Danny looked at her seriously. "No, when I'm on Staten Island, I'm there to visit my dad. Nothing else." He realized he'd sounded sort of snippy, so he elaborated, "Dad's a hardcore smoker. Has been for thirty-plus years. Not so sure if I'll have a whole lot of time with him."

There was a pause. "Sorry, Danny," Stella said quietly.

He attempted to be upbeat, offered Stella a smile. "Nah, don't worry about it. Dad's tough as nails, he'll be around till the day I die. And I plan on living forever."

"Lindsay, did you get anything off the samples we collected?" Stella asked, changing the subject.

Lindsay shook her head. "Nothing yet. I'm going to run some of the charred debris through the GCMS and see if I can't get traces of whatever was used to start the fire." She pointed at the picture of the house Aaron McCann had pasted in his portfolio, then pointed to the blackened mess on the lab table before her. "Might be a while, though," she said apologetically.

"However long it takes," Stella told her. "Take you time and do a good job."

"No problem." Lindsay returned to work preparing the sample for the machine. Stella left the lab to go talk to Mac about another case.

Danny sidled up beside Lindsay and slid his hands around her waist. "What are you doing Friday night?" he asked.

Lindsay felt her face getting out as she thought about it. "My day off. Why?"

He grinned. "Two tickets to a Mets season opener. Whaddya say?"

Lindsay thought about it. "Did you get decent seats?"

"Foul line, third baseline?"

"Oooo. Fun. I'll bring my glove."

"Game starts at six. I'll pick you up at five?"

"Sounds great." She allowed herself to lean back into his hold for a few seconds. "All right, Cowboy. Back to work."

He gave her a mock pout, but he let her go, moving around to stand next to her.

The GCMS readout popped up on the computer screen. Lindsay read the trace elements, then her eyes drifted to the final analysis. "Gasoline. That's what started your Staten Island fire, Danny."

"Not exactly an unusual choice," Danny groaned. "And only available, oh, everywhere." He sighed. "Maybe Flack's having more luck with questioning the partygoers. Because we've hit zero here."

"We've never hit zero," Lindsay spoke up. "We have lots more to look through yet."

"Ever the optimist."

She smiled. "Someone has to be."

He returned the smile. "I gotta go talk to Adam. I'll see you later?"

"Yeah, sounds good." He squeezed her hand; she squeezed his for a few seconds longer. With that, he winked at her, smiled, and left.

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"I didn't see anything."

"My kid was showing me his backflip."

"The volleyball game was intense."

Flack wasn't getting anywhere. He'd been through half the guest list at the McCann's party, but nobody had seen anything out of the ordinary. It shouldn't have surprised him; even though there probably were some people there who honestly had other things to think about, at least _someone_ should have seen something, but probably had a convenient case of random blindness just then.

He hated it when that happened.

Nicole Keenan had just left the interrogation room. Flack sat down in a chair and rested his head on his arms. He was frustrated.

"Hey, you," a woman's voice rang out.

Flack glanced up to see Stella Bonasera standing in the doorway. "Hey," Flack said tiredly.

"Mmm, not going well, huh?"

"Nobody conveniently saw a thing," Flack responded. "And I only have…well, a lot of people left to interview."

"Nobody's given you anything?" Stella sat down across the table from him.

He shook his head. "There were too many people. Nobody was watching if anyone went around to the front of the house. The closest thing we have is the woman who just left, Nicole Keenan, said she saw the McCann kid and his girlfriend go inside the house just as she was coming out."

"But Cameron McCann discovered the fire, and he called it in," Stella said. "And the parents tell me that Cameron and Jessica are pretty much glued together. Jessica said all they did was go in to change clothes, then smelled smoke."

"I don't think the kids had anything to do with it." Flack stated flatly.

"I agree with you," Stella replied. Then she thought of something. "Well, what about this Nicole Keenan? She was in the house alone for a time, right? She could have easily gone through the house, out to the front and doused the foundation with gasoline."

"I'll bring her back in," Flack said. He leaned back in the chair. "Finally. We might get somewhere." He sounded exhausted.

"Rough week, Flack?" Stella sounded concerned.

He nodded. "Couple o' drug busts in Queens. Officer involved shootout, the guy's in the hospital right now. Let's see…some home invasions in Manhattan, a fire on Staten Island, some gang rough-ups in the Bronx… and that's just the last 48 hours."

"Busy week," Stella said.

"Busy week," he acknowledged. He rubbed his temples. "I'm just tired."

She stood and put a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Hang in there," she said. "And when you go home at night, try to sleep."

He smiled wearily at her. "Sleep. Right. I remember that…what's that again?"

She laughed. "I'll see you later."

Flack heard the door click shut behind her. _Good to have a friend like her_, he thought to himself.

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_Rumor has it there's this little blue button (or purple. Some people do see purple...) down there, and if you click on it, you can tell me how you like this story...come on...it'll be fun..._


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to all o' my reviewers, I see some old names and some new folks, so that's pretty exciting.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of CSI:NY; they belong to CBS and Anothony Zuiker.**

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Chapter Three

_Smoke filled the air, and he had to suffer a five second coughing fit before he could move again. It was so thick he could barely see more than half a foot in front of his face. Sweat poured from his brow, stinging his eyes._

_It was getting hotter…it meant he was going in the right direction. He had to find her before the building collapsed. He could hear the firefighters looking for him. They yelled his name, but he ignored them._

_Then he saw her. She was lying on the floor, out cold. He coughed as he knelt next to her, looking for a pulse._

_Faint, but it was there. He shook her. "Come on, Montana. Get up." _

_He didn't get a response. Taking a chance, he picked her up and began walking toward the door._

_A beam fell right in front of him, cutting him off from the exit. "Damn it," he swore. "Hey! We're in here!" he yelled, trying to get the attention of the firefighters. But the roar and crackle of the fire was too loud._

_He heard a crack, and looked up to see another beam falling directly for them…_

Danny Messer awoke in a cold sweat. He put his hands on his face. It had been so real. His face, pillow and neck were soaked in sweat. He squinted at the alarm clock next to his bed. 3:30 a.m., it blared at him.

He stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, taking slow, steady deep breaths to calm himself down. _It was so real_…he thought to himself. He had half a mind to call Lindsay, to make sure she was okay. But he knew she'd draw and quarter him if he called now. They both had to be at work in two and a half hours. He made a mental note to check up on her at work. _She's the one that's fine, I'm the one that's the wreck._

Sighing, he swung his legs out of bed. There was no way in hell he was getting back to sleep now. Might as well get up. Danny threw on a pair of sweats and a New York Mets T-shirt, grabbed his tennis shoes and his keys.

If he was up, he might as well work off the nightmare. A good all-out jog ought to do that.

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Lindsay was already hard at work on the trace from the McCann fire when Danny got to work two and a half hours later. "Good morning…Danny?" She noticed his red eyes and his messed hair right away. "Didn't get much sleep last night?"

"How could ya tell?" he asked good-naturedly.

"Because you look like hell," she said simply.

He snorted. "Thanks."

"You okay?" Lindsay asked, a note of concern in her voice.

"Yeah…just a nightmare. I'm good." He rubbed his eyes under his glasses. "So…what's on the agenda?"

Lindsay waved a hand over the spread-out evidence on the table. "Stella thinks Flack may have gotten a suspect, so I'm looking for evidence to corroborate."

"Where do you want me to start?" he asked.

She passed him the gold door knob that had originally been attached to the McCann's front door. "Dust it for prints. Try for epithelial DNA."

Danny donned a pair of latex gloves. "Your wish is my command," he said.

"You're more sarcastic when you don't sleep," Lindsay observed.

He could have warranted that with a sarcastic comeback, but he didn't. He took a moment to take her in. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she was wearing khaki pants and a green v-neck top. "You look beautiful this mornin'," he said.

She smiled. "Danny, I've worn this outfit like, a million times."

"Doesn't matter. Ya still look great."

She eyed him now, curious. "Okay, what is it?"

"What?" he asked, mid-dust.

"What was your nightmare about?" she demanded. "You're scaring me."

He sighed. "Nothing. Just a fire. I was there."

She nodded. "Scary."

"Scary," he confirmed. He didn't elaborate on the rest, and luckily, she seemed to accept that answer. He looked at the doorknob. "Bingo. Got prints." He carefully pulled them from the doorknob and ran them one at a time through AFIS. It gave him an excuse to be busy and hope that Lindsay wouldn't press him about his nightmare.

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"Flack's not getting anywhere with the block partiers," Stella informed Mac when he walked in at ten that morning. She handed him a mug. "Coffee. Black."

"Thanks," Mac said appreciatively. "How about Lindsay and Danny on trace?"

"I don't know, haven't checked in with them yet." She followed him into his office, where he sat down behind his desk. "So what do you want me to do?"

"Sit," he said.

She obliged him, parking it on the bench seat kitty corner from his desk. "What's your plan for your weekend?" she asked him.

"Don't know yet," he said. "There's a new exhibition at the Met, might go check that out."

"I didn't really peg you for the museum-liking type," Stella said.

"When I was in the Marines, whenever I had an off day overseas, I always made a point to get out and learn a little about where I was stationed," Mac explained. "You gain some appreciation for history being overseas."

"Gotcha. When's the exhibition?"

"The reception for it is Friday night." Mac said, handing her a brochure he'd picked up on his way to work.

Stella flipped through it. "This looks interesting," she told him.

"You want to come check it out?" he asked her.

She looked up, surprised. "Sure. That'd be great. Is this a dress-up thing?"

"Nothing too fancy, not cocktails or anything," Mac replied. "Don't wear jeans."

"Mac, I don't own jeans."

He had just realized that- in all the years working with her, he'd never seen her in anything other than slacks and dress skirts. "Then the wardrobe won't be a problem," he said.

She stood. "I'm gonna go see what Lindsay and Danny have gotten so far." She smiled. "What time on Friday?"

"Seven-thirty," Mac said.

"Sounds good. You picking me up?"

He chuckled. "I guess I am," he said, knowing it was the answer Stella wanted to hear.

"All right, then," Stella opened his door. "Have a good day. See you later."

Mac watched her go across the hall to Trace. "See you later," he said softly out loud to no one.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks to my reviewers!**

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Chapter Four

Flack paced the room in front of Nicole Keenan, who sat at the small table, leaned back in her chair with her arms crossed over her chest. "You're gonna wear a hole in the floor," she told him.

He turned to face her. "Hey, I can keep this up all day. When you want to tell me what you did at the McCann's house party, I'll be here." He continued pacing.

"You're wasting your time," Nicole said. "I didn't do anything. I went in the house to use the bathroom. That's it. I came back out. Cameron almost ran into me. I figured he and his girlfriend were going for some alone time. I went back to the party, and like five minutes later, I heard people running for their lives." She readjusted herself on the cold metal chair as Danny came into the room. "Flack, can I talk to ya for a second?" he asked.

Flack left the room. "She's annoying. Tell me she's guilty."

"Wish I could, pal," Danny said. He handed Flack a piece of paper. Flack looked at him with a 'duh' look on his face. "Danny, you know I don't know what the hell half that stuff means."

"It means Nicole Keenan's prints weren't on the front door handle," Danny explained. "So unless she walked around the outside of the house with a gas can in her hand, she didn't do it. I would think someone would've noticed her bringing that back to the party. Besides, she's got no motive. We can't tie her conclusively to the fire. She's out. For now, anyway."

"So we're back to square one." Flack raised his eyes to the precinct ceiling. "Damn it."

"Don't know what you're complainin' about," Danny said. "You don't have to sift through eight thousand tons of evidence."

Flack offered his friend a smile. "Eight thousand tons?" he repeated. "Yeah, okay."

Danny smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. "You look beat."

Flack studied him. He may have been smiling, but he could still see the tell-tale signs. "You didn't sleep last night, either," he said pointedly.

"Nightmare. About a fire, oddly enough." Danny leaned against the wall.

"Bad one?" Flack asked.

He nodded. "What happened?"

"Lindsay was inside. I found her, we tried to get out. The last thing I see is this big ceiling support falling for us before I wake up."

Flack winced. "Ouch. Have you told Lindsay you're dreaming about her?" He raised his eyebrows.

Danny hit him. "No. And I don't plan on it. No sense in getting her worked up over it," he replied. "I'll be upstairs. Don't worry, we'll get you a suspect."

"Fine. Till then, I'm taking a nap," Flack called after him.

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"Danny looks dead," Stella observed in the break room later on that day.

"He didn't get much sleep last night," Lindsay replied. "I guess he was dreaming about a fire. How weird is that?"

"Well, they do say that you dream about what's happening in your life," Sheldon Hawkes reported. "If the fire was the last thing in Danny's mind, it's entirely possible."

"Well, unfortunately the fired screwed us over pretty good," Lindsay said. "We got some prints off the doorknobs, but they all match the McCanns, which makes perfect sense. Our firestarter was never in the house."

"You didn't find whatever contained the gasoline?" Hawkes asked them.

Stella shook her head. "We're assuming he took it with him."

"You're stuck," he said.

"Thanks for rubbing it in," Stella grouched good-naturedly.

He smiled. "Glad to be of help. Sid said he needed help down in Autopsy. Apparently, someone limbless was brought in last night." There was an undercurrent of excitement in his voice.

"Sounds like fun," Lindsay said, rolling her eyes.

Hawkes grinned. "The job is never boring," he reminded them before heading to the elevators.

Stella looked at Lindsay. "He's gotta get out more."

"Make sure if I ever get _that_ excited about a DB, you tell me it's time to retire," Lindsay made her friend promise.

"Same goes here."

Danny came out of DNA and walked towards Mac's office. Stella watched as Lindsay followed his every move. "Everything okay between you and Danny?" she asked.

"What?" a distracted Lindsay asked.

"You guys haven't talked much today."

"Oh…" Lindsay looked back at Stella. "Something's bothering him. He won't tell me what, though." She sighed. "We've come a long way in opening up to each other in the past four months, with everything that's happened. But sometimes…" she sighed. "Sometimes I still think there's things that we need to come clean on."

_And that goes for me, too…but I can't. Mine is different._ "Anyway. It's just frustrating."

Stella patted her on the back. "He'll tell you when he's ready. Until then…I heard you have Mets tickets?"

Lindsay brightened. "Yup, third baseline. I'm excited."

"When's the game?"

"Tomorrow night."

"You have fun."

"I will." Lindsay smiled her first real smile all day.

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_Rumor has it there's this little blue (or purple...or indigo :) down there, and if ya push it, ya get ta tell me how ya like this story...try it...it'll be fun..._


	5. Chapter 5

**I appreciate the rockin' reviews this story's getting. Some of them were really long- great! Exciting. For messermonroe, who said the chapter was lacking in DL, here it is. Some Stella/Mac as well! (is the "official" term for that 'SMacked'? I've been seeing that around.**

**Kudos to those smart cookies that can pick out the Coney Island movie reference!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of CSI:NY; they belong to CBS and Anthony Zuiker.**

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Chapter Five

Danny showed up at Lindsay's apartment at five on the dot. Lindsay was already set to go. She had her hair in a ponytail threaded through a orange Mets ball cap. She was wearing the Carlos Delgado jersey she'd bought at the last game they'd gone to and a pair of light jeans. She held her glove in her hand.

"Whoa. You're ready, huh?" Danny grinned. He was wearing a dark blue shirt and jeans, but was sporting a black Mets hat.

"I'm excited," Lindsay informed him. "I'm catching a ball tonight."

"Not if I get to it first, Montana," Danny challenged.

"Wasn't that the same threat you made last time? And didn't you nearly tackle a little kid in the process?"

"Montana, I was nowhere near that kid," Danny protested.

She rolled her eyes. "Danny, you pretty much took him out, no matter how much you want to admit it."

He only grinned in response. She was mostly right…but he did it all for love. It was the first game they'd ever attended together, and he wanted her to have something memorable. He only felt a _little_ bad that he'd almost trampled an eight year old in the process of getting a Glavine foul ball for her. The ball now sat right above her TV.

"All right, enough chitchat. Let's go."

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Mac knocked on Stella's door promptly at six forty-five. When she opened the door, he couldn't help but, well, for lack of a better term, check her out. She wore a simple black skirt and black blouse over a white dress shirt. Her jewelry was simple, her hair was loose around her shoulders. That was Stella- simple yet refined and elegant. "Hi," she greeted him with a smile.

"Hi yourself," Mac replied. "You look great."

"Thank you. You're not so bad yourself," Stella told him. Mac wore a dark blue button-down shirt and black slacks.

"Are we ready?"

She nodded. "After you."

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Kelly Andreasan was enjoying her trip to Coney Island. She'd seen a movie once where two girls rode spinning teacups, and so she had too, at least ten times. She felt really dizzy. She stared off into the distance, deciding what she wanted to do next. Then she tugged her mother's hand.

"Mommy. What's all that smoke over there?" She pointed off across the water.

Linda Andreasan looked over. Several people had now begun gathering nearby, talking and pointing. The smoke was high.

Several calls went in to 911 that night reporting a fire in Queens.

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"Up to bat…number 21, Carlos Delgado!"

Lindsay squeezed Danny's arm. "This is it, right here. He's gonna foul one, he's gonna foul it this way, and it's all mine!"

The lights at Shea Stadium were in full blaze as the top of the third came around. The Mets were playing the Diamondbacks, and the Mets were up 1-0.

The ball was pitched, but it slammed into the dirt. Ball one.

"Not with pitches like that," Danny noted. "Can't swing at a _lousy pitch!_" he yelled, raising his voice to a yell at the last two words.

The next ball was a strike, but Delgado didn't swing. "Come on," Lindsay groused. "That was a perfect pitch! Under the dictionary definition of "perfect" it said "see that pitch!"

Danny couldn't help but smile. "Careful Montana," he teased. "You're too young for a baseball-related coronary."

As the next pitch also wound up being a strike on the outside corner, pretty soon Danny heard himself yelling, too. This time, it was Lindsay's turn to laugh.

It worked its way up to a full count. "You're not gonna get your ball, Montana," Danny said.

Then he heard the crack of the bat.

Delgado had sent one foul…heading their way.

Lindsay grinned at Danny and stood, seeing him leap to his feet as well. The ball was coming down right over their section.

"Don't even think about it, Montana," Danny yelled.

She only smiled. The ball dropped…dropped… Lindsay stuck her hand out and the foul dropped neatly into her glove. She felt herself pitching forward, but Danny managed to keep her upright.

She turned back to him, breathless. "Did you…I…._see_?" She held her glove out.

He shook his head and laughed at her. "Nice, Montana."

Up on the jumbo-tron, Danny saw he and Lindsay magnified a hundred times so everyone could see the ball. Seeing a potential opportunity, he threw an arm around her and kissed her. Lindsay returned it…until she happened to look up and see both of them on the giant screen.

"Danny!" she yelled, hitting him in the chest. The crowd around them was cheering and laughing. Lindsay felt herself turning red. "I'm gonna kill you for that," she muttered.

Danny felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. "Saved!" He pulled it out. "Oh no. Montana, we gotta go."

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The fire had started in a duplex close to the water. By the time Danny and Lindsay got there, the place was close to completely engulfed in flames. A crowd of onlookers had gathered. Some were crying- Lindsay guessed they were residents of the now-flaming duplex. "This is bad," she whispered to Danny. Unobtrusively, she slipped her arm through his. He squeezed her hand, the fire reflecting off his glasses.

Firefighters were screaming out orders. Red and blue police lights mixed in with the angry yellow and orange flames. A small crowd of police were trying to keep the curious crowd back. Danny saw Don Flack and waved. Don acknowledged his friend with a nod before chewing out a rowdy crew of teenagers who were cracking jokes about the fire.

"Danny. Lindsay."

Despite the circumstances, Danny couldn't help but laugh when he saw how the two people were dressed that were coming toward him. "Well. You two are certainly dressed to process."

Stella and Mac both refrained from rolling their eyes. Mac's pager had gone off just as the exhibitor financier was making his riveting speech. They hadn't been able to beat it out of there fast enough before they got the evil eyes from everyone. "What about you two?" Stella shot back. "You here to process the fire or cheer it on?"

"Look," Mac said, pointing. Everyone turned to see a group of firefighters pulling out a body from the now slightly-smoking rubble. "Damn," Mac breathed.

Then Danny's phone rang. It was a restricted number. Someone had star-67'd it. "Hello?" he asked. Lindsay turned to him questioningly.

_"Nice night for a bonfire, huh, Detective?" _The accent was definitely New York.

Danny jerked his head around, trying to find the person he was talking to. He stepped up to Mac and tapped him on the shoulder. Mac looked at him. Danny mouthed _It's him!_ "Who is this?" Danny asked.

Mac snapped his fingers, pointing Stella and Lindsay in opposite directions to track down the person on the phone.

The voice chuckled. _"They're not gonna find me."_

"Oh yeah? So…what's with the fire? You killed someone, you know."

_"Did I? An unfortunate casualty of war."_

"War? Against who?"

Soft laughter. _"You, of course."_

"The NYPD?"

_"No, Detective. Just you."_

"Why me?"

"_Catch me if you can, Danny."_

The line went dead.


	6. Chapter 6

** SO SORRY that I haven't updated sooner, writer's block is a writer's WORST nightmare. My apologies to all my faithful reviewers out there. Please enjoy chapter six!**

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Chapter Six

"Hello?" Danny yelled into the phone. He looked up at Mac and raised his hands in a shrug. Mac shook his head. He hadn't found anyone.

Stella and Lindsay also returned with nothing. "Lots of cell phones, but nobody talking to you," Stella said.

"He just hung up." Danny sighed. "Why's it always me?" Lindsay put a hand on his arm.

"I don't know. We have to find something at this fire that gives us a suspect. That phone call makes our Staten Island fire and the Queens fire connected," Mac said. He looked over- the firefighters had almost extinguished the blaze.

"How did he get your number?" Lindsay wondered.

Danny shrugged. "I don't know. He knew my name, though, and he knows what I do for a living."

Don Flack came over to join the conversation. He took in the concerned faces of everyone standing there. "What?" he asked.

"Our arsonist just called Danny."

Flack turned to his friend. "He _what_?"

"He says it's war against me," Danny reported. "And that the DOA they brought out of that building is just a casualty of war." He turned to Mac. "I don't think this is our last fire."

"Let's hope this guy left something behind this time," Mac replied. One of the firefighters gave him a nod. "Right. Okay, the scene is ours."

"I'm talking to the folks that lived here," Flack said. Mac nodded his okay.

His team got to work. Slowly, they worked their way through the rubble. It was about a half hour before anyone found anything substantial. "Mac!" Lindsay yelled to him. She pointed. "I think this is our point of origin." She was standing next to an outlet. The wall behind it was blackened and bubbled. Mac came over and carefully helped her unscrew the outlet cover. Lindsay pulled out her fingerprinting kit and brushed the cover.

Mac retrieved something from inside the wall. Briefly, he was reminded of a case Sheldon had worked a while ago where someone had intentionally started a fire by stuffing a potato chip bag into the space behind an outlet. This appeared to be the same thing. He bagged it, labeled it, and continued searching. "Got prints?" he asked Lindsay.

Lindsay shook her head. "Nothing," she said. "What did you find?"

"I think I found part of what our firestarter used for kindling," Mac told her.

"Oh, I can go you one better," Stella said as she came into the room. She triumphantly held a red gas can up by the handle. "This guy wanted to make sure the place would go up in a hurry. I think he doused the room next door in gasoline."

"So he walks into the building," Mac began, "carrying a gas can. He stuffs a potato chip bag behind the outlet. He dumps gas all over the stuff in the next room. Then he starts the fire and walks out."

"Nobody's that careful, Mac. Somebody had to have seen this guy," Stella said.

"For right now, that's Flack's job."

There was a silence for a few minutes. "How do you think Danny is involved?" Stella wondered.

"I don't know. We won't know for sure until he gets another phone call…hopefully we can prevent that. Another phone call would mean-"

"Another fire," Stella finished the thought.

"Exactly," Mac replied. "Whoever our guy is wanted to make sure this place was gonna burn. Why?"

"Could have something to do with that dead body that sitting in the ME's office right now. Maybe I'll go back, find out who that was."

"Sure. I think we're mostly done here."

Flack returned "Nobody saw our guy. But we know who the body is. Thirty year-old Charles 'Chaz' Lohman. He lived in the building with his wife and kid."

"Who?" Danny's head had shot up at the name. He came jogging over. "Say the name again."

"Chaz Lohman," Flack said, studying his friend. "Why?"

Danny shook his head. "Mac, I knew Chaz. From a long time ago. He used to come over to the house and toss a baseball around with me. Chaz was the middle kid. His older brother David was killed in a fire when we were kids. Some kind of drug deal gone bad. The guy got pissed at him and knocked him out cold, then started the fire to cover any evidence. They never caught the guy."

"What about the younger brother?"

"Greg's idol was David. He never was the same after that. I think he ran away from home, or they sent him to a special school or something." Danny slumped his shoulders. "Damn. Chaz…"

"Danny. Head back to the lab and find out official COD on Chaz Lohman. Flack, Lindsay and I can finish up here," Mac said.

"You sure?" Danny said. "I mean, I'm good, I can keep objective and all that. I hadn't seen Chaz in…shoot, five years or so."

"I'm sure you can. But we don't need you here, we're mostly done anyway. Go on."

Danny looked from Flack to Mac and nodded. "Sure. Okay. Lindsay'll need a ride."

"Gotcha covered," Flack assured him. Danny nodded his thanks and walked to his car.

"Why'd you tell him to leave, Mac?" Flack asked the CSI.

Mac turned to the detective. "Because just in case this turns personal for our arsonist, I don't want Danny anywhere near where he could get to him. Plus, a friend of his is dead, and the killer is playing with Danny. The lab is safe."

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_So, people have been trying to confirm this rumor for me. I hear there's a button at the bottom of chapters that people push to tell writers how their story's going and offer constructive criticism (or swoon over Danny, or beg for mean suspects to be killed off). Is this true?_


	7. Chapter 7

**Contains slight references to Run Silent, Run Deep...Also refers to my story "Forever." Not too much, though. All ya need to know is that the Ashleigh mentioned was NOT a good person. An' if you read it, you know that already :)**

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own the characters of CSI:NY; they belong to CBS and Anthony Zuiker**

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Chapter Seven

Marty Pino pushed up the sleeves on his Giants jersey (it didn't matter that football season was over; he wore it under his scrubs every day) and pointed. "Stella, your buddy here was hit in the head with something hard before they Kentucky-Fried him." He pulled something from the vic's hair. "I don't know if you can get trace off this or not."

"We can get trace off of anything," Stella replied.

Marty grinned, studying the body again. "Cocky, are we?"

"No, confident."

"Stel? Marty? What've we got?"

Stella turned to see Danny come in. "Hey, Danny. Chaz here was a victim of blunt-force trauma before he was torched." She caught the look in Danny's eyes.

Sadness. "Danny?" she asked. Marty looked up, hearing the turn of tone in Stella's voice.

Danny crossed his arms over his chest. "I knew the guy. We used to play baseball together," he said, pointing. "His older brother was killed in a fire. Some druggie thought he got screwed over, so he killed him and set a fire to try to cover it up. They never caught him. His little brother Greg was never the same after that. I think the Lohmans sent him to a special school for some counseling or something. Last time I talked to Chaz it was five years ago. I think I ran into him in a bar or something."

"Do you know where Greg is now?" Stella asked him. "We should at least try to find him to let him know his brother's dead."

The phone call he'd received before the fire replayed in Danny's head. _He knew my name…my number…my occupation…_ "Stella. I need to run to Staten Island."

"For what?" Stella queried.

Danny was halfway out the door. "I gotta talk to my dad."

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When Lindsay and Mac returned to the lab, Stella relayed the conversation from down in Autopsy. "It's possible our firestarter might be Greg Lohman," she said. "He's MIA at the moment."

"I'll get Sheldon working on some of the trace from the duplex," Mac said. He left, leaving Lindsay with Stella.

"You okay?" Stella asked. Her friend just smiled. She was still wearing the Mets jersey, she hadn't had time to change. Stella had thrown a pair of pants on over her dress.

"Sure. I'm okay. How's Danny?" Lindsay asked.

Stella smiled knowingly. "Shaken, I think. You know, a lot has happened to you two in the past year."

Lindsay nodded; boy, did she know. "Seems like Danny's past is coming after him full-force. I mean, first Tanglewood, then Ashleigh, now this…" Lindsay shrugged. "I hope he's okay."

"Danny's a tough guy; he'll be just fine. He needs you to lean on right now. He needs you to be there for him if it finally hits him," Stella explained. "And you two will make it through just fine."

"Thanks," Lindsay said. "I'll go get started on Trace. If you see Danny before I do…"

"I'll let him know you're looking for him."

Lindsay smiled. Stella returned the smile before heading to her office.

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Danny almost got pulled over twice on his way to Staten Island. _Wouldn't Flack have loved booking me, though_? He took a minute this time and drove by the McCann's home. The crime scene tape was gone, and Aaron McCann had begun dutifully fixing his beloved house. Danny took a left and finally ended up at his house.

Danny's memories of growing up there were mixed. There were times he could remember great times like holidays and birthdays and snow days. He remembered playing with Louie in the backyard, running through the sprinkler or throwing a baseball. He could smell his mama's cooking- he definitely missed that. His father was nowhere the cook Elena Messer was.

Then there were the days when he'd catch an unfamiliar car parked down the street. Or occasionally stumbling onto "business" meetings his father would have. Or when Louie joined the Tanglewoods, he remembered the fights that Louie and Elena Messer would have. He remembered fighting with his older brother. And he especially remembered that night in 1991 when he'd driven home after his brother said he was "embarrassing" him. He remembered storming into the house and swearing to his parents that he was never speaking to Louie again and that the second he graduated, he was leaving New York.

Not that that had happened. Because then his mother had gotten sick. And Danny almost didn't go to college, but his father insisted. That, and the NYU baseball team wanted him. But a broken wrist shot that dream down. So he'd finished school and graduated the police academy, and Mac had hired him, and the rest was history.

Danny knocked once on the white screen door out of politeness. Then he walked in. "Pop?"

"In here," his father's voice called. Danny followed the ensuing coughing fit into the living room. His father was in the recliner. A Mets game was on. "Hey. Danny. Two visits in less than a week? You'll spoil me."

Danny smiled. "I wish work didn't keep me so busy, or I'd be here more." He sat down on the couch. The house reeked of cigarette smoke. "How you been?"

Gabriel Messer coughed. "I'm all right. Mets are winning, all is right in the world. They beat the Yankees next week, an' I can die happy."

_Please don't say stuff like that_, Danny cringed inwardly. "You remember the Lohmans, right? John and Maria, their three kids?"

Gabriel Messer's brow furrowed. "You came all the way ta Staten Island to grill me?"

"Pop, don't take offense. I'm just curious," Danny replied.

"Yeah. Ol' man Lohman died, what, six years ago?"

"Seven," Danny corrected. "Well, the middle boy, Chaz? He was killed in a fire tonight."

"You serious? Ain't that what happened to the oldest one? Derrick?"

"David," Danny said. "And yeah. Do you remember what happened to the youngest kid, Greg?"

Gabriel Messer shrugged. "Not real sure."

"You haven't seen him?"

"Why would I have seen 'im?"

"Dad," Danny pressed. "Has Greg Lohman been by to talk to you?"

Recognition seemed to dawn on the elder Messer's face. "Yeah. I got a phone call the other day. Said it was Greg Lohman, and did I remember him? I said sure, he used ta come over and play ball with you. He said he was looking for you, wanted your number."

"Did you give him my cell number?" Danny asked.

"Yeah. Did he find you?"

_Yup…_ "Did he mention what he was doing back in town?" Danny questioned.

"Something about getting his family affairs in order."

_Huh. Imagine that._ "He tell you where he was staying or anything?" Danny asked. When his father eyed him, he held up his hands. "Last question. Promise."

"No."

"Okay. Thanks, Pop. I appreciate it." Danny turned to go. His father held up a hand.

"That's it? You come here to ask me fifty million questions about some kid you knew, and that's it?"

Danny took a breath. "I'm just really wrapped up in work right now, Dad," he said.

"Who's the new girlfriend?"

Danny's jaw hit the floor. "What?" He picked his tongue up off the linoleum.

"It can't just be work you're hurrying to get back to. Nobody's that excited for work," Gabriel Messer never took his eyes away from the screen. "So who is she?"

Danny smiled. "I'll bring her by some time. She's amazing."

"Your mother would be furious that we hadn't met her by now."

Danny allowed himself a fast moment of silence. "Ma would love her," Danny finally said. "I'll see you later, Pop. Thanks." He closed the door to another coughing fit.

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**And alas, this is where I must leave you. I'm working really hard to iron out the rest of the story. I have an ending planned, now I just have to get there. I do have two questions for anyone out there- 1) What episode is the one where Hawkes works the fire? It involves chess. and 2) If you have a Stella/Mac preference or Stella/Flack preference, I want to know. Your feedback is greatly appreciated and will be utilized! (and if Stella/Mac is SMacked, then what is Stella/Flack?)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: I AM SO SORRY for the long delay. Much thanks to everyone who put in for a Stella/Mac or Stella/Flack pairing- the votes have been tallied...**

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Chapter Eight:

Sheldon held up a sheet of readouts. "The trace in Greg Lohman's hair was blue painted wood chips."

Stella raised an eyebrow and took the report, reading it over. "What in the world?"

He shrugged. "Find anything like it at the scene?"

"No. The place was mostly charcoal when we got there." Stella thought about it, recalling the duplex. "I don't remember anything." She sighed. "I hate fire. It covers evidence way too well."

"Stella."

She looked up to see Danny standing in the doorway. He looked breathless, like he'd ignored the elevator completely. "What's up? Lindsay's looking for you."

"Greg Lohman called my dad asking about me. He's definitely involved, I just am not sure how. Where's Lindsay?"

"Break room," Stella reported. "We'll see what we can do about tracking him down."

"Great." Danny went down the hallway to the break room. Lindsay was standing in front of the coffee maker, tapping her foot impatiently.

Danny came up behind her and snaked an arm around her waist. "Hey, you," he said.

She jumped. "Oh! Danny." She turned and hugged him. "Are you okay?"

"Fine, fine. I ran to Staten Island to talk to my dad." He looked at her. "How are you?"

"Tired," she replied. "Concerned."

"Really? About what?"

"You," Lindsay replied. "How are you taking all this?"

He shrugged. "One step at a time." He smiled at her. "So. You were worried about me?"

She tried to shrug him off. "Well, you know, with your fragile psyche and everything…"

"Excuse me?" Danny grabbed her playfully by the shoulders. "My _what?_"

"Your fragile psyche. It's okay. I won't tell." Lindsay was grinning. Danny shook his head, pulled her close and ruffled her hair.

"Hey!" she protested. She dodged out of his reach and looked at him. "So. Seriously. What'd you talk to your dad about?"

"The guy on the phone the other night in Queens? He knew my name, my cell number and what I do for a living. Dad says Greg Lohman- that's David's youngest brother-called him the other day lookin' for me."

"So Greg Lohman is connected to the fires?"

Danny nodded. "Looks like, although what I can't figure out is why he's at war with me. I had nothin' to do with the fire David was killed in."

Lindsay asked, "How long ago was that?"

Danny thought about it. The answer nearly knocked him over. "I think it was 1991."

"1991?" Lindsay asked. "Wait a second, wasn't that-"

"Yeah it was." Danny shook his head. "Geez, that was a bad year."

Lindsay sat down with her coffee. "So, tell me about Greg Lohman."

Danny thought about it. "He was a good kid. Idolized David." His face brightened a little at the fond memory. "David seemed to have it all goin' for him. Then there's a freak fire…" His face fell again.

"Did Greg know David was doing drugs?"

"That's just it," Danny said. "See, Chaz and David were really close. I mean, all three brothers were real close, but Chaz and David more than Greg. Chaz never mentioned to me that David was acting strange. And Chaz could read a person like a freakin' book."

"But that's how you said the fire started," Lindsay said. "Drug deal gone bad."

"No, see, here's the thing. That's what they assumed it was. There was never any proof of it. But rumors in my old neighborhood, they fly fast.

"Anyway, after that, Greg was never the same. Not only was his role model dead, but he had this tarnished reputation afterward, too. Greg started getting into fights with people. People would talk about David behind his back. Greg broke a kid's jaw one time because the kid called David a druggie. Finally, the Lohmans sent Greg to some private school or something where they thought he'd stay out of trouble. Help him move on."

"So no one's heard from Greg Lohman since they sent him away?"

"Not a word. His dad died a while back. He didn't show up for the funeral. And I doubt his mom hears from him. Maria Lohman hasn't really been the same since her son died, either. And I bet she's worse now that Chaz is gone, too."

"Sad," Lindsay whispered, and Danny agreed.

"Were you close with all the Lohmans? Or just Chaz?" Lindsay asked him.

"Actually, I started off hanging out with David. Then one day, Chaz played a game of basketball with us. We started talking. David and I sort of faded apart, but Chaz and I were friends…well, I guess I thought we were _still_ friends, just a little…separated."

"Hard when that happens," Lindsay told him.

His cell phone rang, ruining the tranquil moment. Danny half wanted to ignore it, but decided against it. He pulled it from his pocket.

Restricted Number. He and Lindsay exchanged curious glances. Danny hit SEND. "Hello?"

"_Danny Messer. Long time, no see._"

"Greg Lohman." Danny said for Lindsay's benefit.

"_You figured it out. I wondered about that when I saw you leaving your dad's place. How's he doin'?"_

"Still a hardcore smoker. What's goin' on, Greg?" Danny demanded. "Why'd you kill Chaz?" Lindsay ran out of the room to get Mac.

There was a pause. _"That was an accident,_" Greg admitted. _"We got into it. I just came by for a visit. Nobody ever came to visit me, you know, when I was put away. Anyway, I got into it with Chaz over that, and how they hadn't done anything to find out what happened to David. David didn't do drugs, Danny._"

"Chaz always knew that," Danny told him. "So why'd ya kill him?"

_"We got into a fight! I hit him with a picture frame!"_ Greg's voice sounded distraught. _"I didn't mean to kill him, Danny, but I musta hit him pretty hard. I panicked. I torched the place._"

"Okay, okay," Danny said. Mac Taylor came charging into the room. "Why don't you come downtown, we'll talk about it?"

Another pause. _"So you're a crime scene guy now, huh, Danny? Do you think you could reopen my brother's case? Find out what happened to him?"_

"Greg," Danny said, choosing his words carefully, "there wasn't enough evidence sixteen years ago, and whatever there was is going to be long gone by now."

_"This is my brother, Danny!" _Greg said. _"It's David!"_

"I know, Greg. I wish there was something I can do. But you're in a lot of trouble, kid. How about you come down to the station, we'll sort this out."

Another pause. _"No."_ Greg's voice hardened. "_No, you know what? Maybe you just need a little push._" Danny heard a crackling sound through the phone. _"Any second now, call's gonna come in, fire in Brooklyn_." With that, Greg hung up.

Danny swore as he clicked off his phone. "I'm sorry, Mac," Danny said.

"You tried," Mac said. It was all he could say. "You tried."

True to Greg's word, a minute later, Mac's beeper went off.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of CSI:NY; they belong to CBS and Anthony Zuiker.**

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Chapter Nine

Don Flack sat tiredly down at his desk. He pressed his fingers to his temples and massaged them gently, wishing it was time for him to go home. He was frustrated; none of the fifty-plus people standing outside the duplex in Queens had seen anything. _There's no way this guy's that good. There's no such thing as the perfect crime, someone _had_ to have seen _something! It annoyed him to no end that people were suffering from convenient cases of amnesia. He didn't know what they were scared of.

"Hi, you."

Flack looked up to see Stella Bonasera standing next to his desk. "Morning," he greeted her quietly.

"You didn't go home last night? Flack." Stella scolded.

"Captain Gerrard's demanding answers. Answers I can't give him as to why there's been two fires and one dead body and no suspect." Flack sighed.

"When was the last time you slept?" Stella asked him.

He thought about it, mentally ticking it off in his head. "I caught a cat-nap around eleven last night. Otherwise, I've pretty much been up for the past seventy-two hours straight."

Stella looked across the room to where Stanton Gerrard was talking to a couple of rookie officers. "You want me to go give him a talkin'-to?"

Flack smiled. "Nah. I'm good." He looked up at her. "Thanks, though."

Stella nodded. "Not a problem."

"How's the case coming?"

"We found trace in our victim's hair- blue painted wood chips."

Flack looked confused. "What?"

"That's what I said," Stella replied. "We also are pretty sure Greg Lohman is involved- the guy that called Danny? We just can't connect him forensically to the fires, just with the phone call." Stella sat on the corner of Flack's desk. "It's frustrating."

"You'll get him," Flack reassured her. "You've never let one go before."

A fleeting image of DJ Pratt and Aiden Burn filled Stella's mind, but she pushed it away. "Thanks for the pep talk, Coach."

He laughed. "You're welcome. Now get back out there, Bonasera, the game's not over yet."

She gave him a thumbs-up. "You got it." She pointed at him. "You've got sick leave. You should take it."

Flack checked his watch. "You know, I think I will." He stood up and picked his jacket off the back of his chair. He had just shrugged into it when Captain Gerrard came over.

"Flack, where the hell do you think you're going?"

"I've got some sick leave, sir, I'm not feeling all that hot."

"Well, you're gonna have to get used to it, Flack. There's been a call. We've got a fire in Brooklyn."

It was all Flack could do not to shake his head- he should have known it was coming. "Who called it in?" he asked, returning to business mode.

"Garrison," Gerrard replied.

Flack glanced back at Stella, who offered him a sympathetic smile. Flack followed Gerrard outside and climbed into his squad car. Lights blaring, he drove off.

Stella hit the elevator button. The doors opened, and Mac was standing there. He looked confused as to where she might have been. "Trying to make Flack go home," Stella offered.

"Ah." Mac nodded. "Something tells me he's not going."

"Fire in Brooklyn, nope." Stella replied. "That where you're headed?"

"Yeah."

"Let me grab my kit and I'll be down in a sec?" Stella watched Mac disappear as the doors closed.

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Don Flack pulled over and let the fire engines go by him. He tailed them to the Brooklyn fire, where he was met by an empty squad car. _Where the hell is Garrison_? He wondered. The lights were still blazing. Smoke filled the neighborhood, which was slowly filling with onlookers, watching the fire like it was from a movie, not real life. He climbed from his car- his job had begun. He walked over to the crowd of people. "Did anyone see anything?" he asked a blanket question.

Several people shook their heads. Then a little girl piped up, "Is the policeman going to be okay?"

Flack knelt so he was eye level with her. "What policeman, sweetheart?"

She pointed. "The one that went inside after the lady."

Flack's heart turned to ice. He slowly got up and turned to face the building. It was an older rise, basically kindling with four walls. _If he went in there…there's no way in hell he's getting out_.

Flack knew that the firemen were going to bring out a body that afternoon. And all he could do was watch.

The building was cooking along when Mac and Stella arrived ten minutes later. Mac went to go talk to the fire chief. Stella came over to Flack. "What's wrong?" she asked, immediately catching the look on his face.

He couldn't speak. He waved a hand at the building. "There's an NYPD officer in there," he said unhappily.

"Oh, God. Flack…" Stella put a hand on his shoulder. He looked at her. Stella was surprised to see the beginnings of tears in his eyes. It was different for she and Mac and Danny, they spent most of their time detached from the homicide unit downstairs. But these were the people Flack saw on a regular basis. It was harder for him. She thought of the shooting in Central Park and how Flack had been irate over losing one of their own. Hell, she'd been upset too.

Stella turned and looked at the building. The firefighters were yelling something now. Two came out, dragging a body. Flack heard the commotion and looked up. He started walking. Stella grabbed his arm. "Flack…"

He pulled his arm away. _I have to see_. He could barely make out the person's facial features under second-degree burns. But he could see the gold glint of something hanging around his neck. Mac Taylor wiped some of the grime away with a handkerchief.

That was all Flack needed to see. He turned, brushed past Stella, and put his hands on the hood of his squad car. As Stella watched, he slammed both fists onto the roof of the car, shaking his head and mumbling. She came over and stood next to him, pulling him into a hug.

Another CSI vehicle pulled up. Danny got out of the driver's seat, followed by Hawkes and Lindsay. Danny looked at the building, at the body, at his best friend. He walked over to Mac. "What happened?" he asked Mac.

Mac nodded. "We all just lost a fellow officer."

The news hit Danny like a Mack truck. He knew it wasn't his fault...and yet, he felt awful. As he walked back to the car, Lindsay caught the look on his face. "This. Is. Not. Your. Fault," she told him deliberately, trying to ingrain it into his head.

"I should've just lied. Said we'd reopen the case. I screwed up." Danny shook his head, collapsing on the hood of a black car.

"You did what you were supposed to do." Lindsay wrapped her arms around his shoulders and put her head on his shoulder.

Danny shook his head. He looked over to Flack and Stella. Stella was saying something, and Flack was nodding. He watched his friend climb back into his car and head down the street.

Stella came over and turned to Danny. "Flack could use a friend right now," she told him quietly. "He's headed back to the precinct."

Danny nodded. "Sure you don't need me here?"

"Positive. Go on."

Danny looked at Lindsay, who half-smiled and nodded. Danny got back into the car and started it.

"How is he?" Stella asked Lindsay.

"Okay, I think."

"Maybe you want to go with him." It wasn't a question, not in Stella's mind. She needed her coworkers with their heads on straight, and that wasn't happening right now. It'd be no problem for her and Mac and Hawkes to work the scene. Stella raised her eyebrows at Lindsay. "Go on."

Lindsay didn't argue. She ran to the car before Danny took off without her and got in.

Stella turned to Sheldon Hawkes. "Let's find something that'll nail this guy, huh?"

He nodded. "Be my pleasure," he said, donning a pair of gloves. He didn't mind that the work had fallen to him. As a friend, all he could do was hope Danny, Flack and even Lindsay would be okay, and help take some of the stress off. If that meant processing an entire apartment complex, then he was all for it. Hawkes was a good friend. He knew what it was like to be a target. He would get this guy for Danny and Flack.

That's what friends were for.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note:** **Much thanks to my reviewers. I'm real happy with the pairing challenge (Smacked or Fiesta(?)). You were definitely up for it. Don't worry, the answer shall be revealed...just not in this chapter!**

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Chapter Ten

When Danny and Lindsay returned to the precinct, Don Flack had beaten them there. He was sitting with his head on his arms on his desk.

"He looks so beat," Lindsay noted.

Danny nodded solemnly. "We gotta get him outta this building." He looked at her. "Be right back?"

Lindsay nodded. Danny left her and walked up to Flack's desk. "Hey," he said quietly.

His friend looked up. "Hey," he replied. "What are you two doin' here?"

"Stella sent us to check up on you. Actually, she sent me after you and sent Lindsay after me," Danny attempted to clarify.

Flack tried to process that statement, and gave up. "Sure."

Danny tugged on Flack's jacket. "Let's go."

"What?" Flack brushed his hand away. "No, I gotta-"

"You don't 'gotta' anything," Danny said. "In the interest of preserving your mental health, we are getting out of this building, and get our minds off the job for a while."

"Danny…"

"Grab your stuff, O Stubborn One," Danny said. "We'll take my car. How does a drink sound?"

"Right now?" Flack asked him. He clapped his friend on the shoulder. "Sounds like a damn fine idea."

Danny smiled. "Good." He kept his hand on Flack's shoulder all the way to the garage for moral support.

The drive to the bar didn't take long. It was a place Mac Taylor's team frequented often. Enough so that the bartender, also named Mac, knew who they were when they walked in. "Hey, Flack," Mac called. "Heard about the fire. Sorry, man."

Flack nodded. "Thanks Mac."

"Whatever you all want, 's on the house."

Danny ordered for all three of them, and they took their seats at the bar. When Mac slid the bottles down the bar to them, Danny held his in the air. "To Officer John Garrison."

Flack and Lindsay held their bottles high. "To Officer John Garrison," Lindsay said.

Flack said, "To a hero." He took a long drink.

After the solemn toast, they kept conversation to lighter things. Flack teased Danny and Lindsay about their relationship ("When will you two set a date, already?"). Danny gave Flack grief about being single ("When are you gonna get yourself a nice girl, Flack? Did ya call any of those nurses from when you were in the hospital?") A few hours later, the three friends said goodnight. Danny drove Lindsay home. Flack opted to walk back to the precinct, after swearing to his friends that he was fine.

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Danny crawled into bed at his apartment around 2:30 in the morning. He was half-hoping between the day's events and the alcohol that he might get a decent night's sleep.

_He was in the building, again. The flames were so hot, the smoke so thick, that Danny had a hard time breathing. He coughed, trying to clear the thick smoke from his lungs._

_He was searching. He had to find him. He had to. "Flack?" Danny yelled. "Flack?" He was hoarse, and his voice was barely a whisper._

_"Danny!"_

_Danny saw a closed door near the end of the hall. Flames licked the wall to his right. "Flack!"_

_"Danny? In here!"_

_Danny kicked open an apartment door. Dust and smoke and fire poured into the room. He looked around, his eyes stinging. "Flack!"_

_"Here!"_

_Danny saw him on the floor. He looked hurt. "Can't move my leg," Flack groaned. _

_"Here. Come on, I got ya." Danny helped Flack to his feet and they started for the door. He could hear someone yelling. _

_"Detective Messer!"_

_"In here! We're in here!" Danny yelled._

_The flames licked at the propane stove in the apartment. Suddenly it caught, and Danny felt himself thrown forward by a flaming wall. He hit hard. "Flack?" he called._

_He turned. Don Flack lay on the floor, unmoving. Still._

_"FLACK!" Danny yelled._

Danny awoke in a cold sweat again. The dream was almost parallel to the one he'd had before. Except it wasn't Lindsay this time, this time it was his best friend.

He shook his head, looking at the clock. 4:45. He flopped back down on his pillow and started up at the white ceiling. _What in the hell am I having these dreams for?_ _A guilty conscience, or what? I don't get it. I don't understand!_

_What does it mean?_

_-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_Rumor has it there's a button below this sentence..._aw, forget it. Like it or hate it, puh-lease review?


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of CSI:NY; they belong to CBS and Anthony Zuiker.**

**Thank you to all my reviewers. Pardon the pun, but things are about to "heat up." Greg Lohman's got some serious issues...**

**---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Chapter Eleven

"Have we found Greg Lohman yet?" Stella asked Mac the next morning when she came in.

"Not yet. Still working on the Brooklyn fire for clues, though." Mac jerked a thumb into the Trace lab. "Sheldon's been working nonstop."

Stella watched the younger man methodically search through a report for any details. "Has he slept?"

Mac glanced up. "No. I think I'm going to send him home."

"Speaking of home…did Flack finally take some time off?" Stella thought about the detective. He had taken the loss of Officer Garrison very hard. She had never seen him look so defeated. The past week had taken a lot out of everyone, trying to work nonstop to catch Greg Lohman.

"I think he might have- he wasn't downstairs this morning," Mac nodded. He opened the door to the Trace lab. "I'm gonna tell Sheldon to take a break."

Stella offered him half a smile. "That's a good idea."

The elevator doors slid open and Danny Messer walked out. "Hey," he greeted Mac and Stella tiredly.

"Hey yourself," Stella said. "How are you?"

"Been better, not gonna lie to you. Lindsay in yet?"

Stella shook her head. "No."

Danny cocked his head. "Really? She's-" he checked his watch- "twenty minutes late."

"I'm sure she just stopped off for coffee or something," Stella reassured him. "We could all use some the way Flack makes it."

"Yeah," Danny agreed. He thought of his friend's face as they pulled the sheet over his fellow officer. "How's he doing?"

"He's at home, asleep, I hope," Stella replied. "Did he seem better last night?"

Danny nodded. "When I left him, he said he was fine. That might've only been partially true, though. But he was better than he was at the scene." He shook his head, yawning.

"You guys go out for drinks last night?" Mac asked him knowingly.

"Yeah, we did. But that's not why I'm tired. Had a nightmare." He shook his head. "That's the second one this week."

"About a fire?" Stella asked.

He looked at her. "How-"

"Lindsay," Stella replied.

"Yeah. There was a fire. Except this time I wasn't trying to save Lindsay."

Mac and Stella exchanged looks. "Who were you trying to save?" Mac asked him.

Danny looked at him. "Flack."

"Flack?" Stella sounded lost. "I don't get it."

"Me either," Danny replied. "But I tell ya one thing- these dreams are freaky real. Like they're actually happening or something." Then he shivered. "Creepy, huh?"

"Creepy," Mac confirmed. He glanced into Trace again. Sheldon Hawkes was still pouring over evidence. "Danny, you ready for the day?"

Danny nodded firmly. "Yup."

"Okay. I'll be right back." Mac disappeared into the lab. Danny watched him exchange words with Hawkes. Then Hawkes came out. He said hello to Danny. "How are you?"

"I'm okay," Danny replied, opting for the easy answer.

"Good, man. I'm glad. How is Flack doing?"

Danny thought about it. "I think he's okay, for now, anyway." He clapped his friend on the back. "Look, man, I appreciate you takin' up my slack the past couple days."

Hawkes nodded. "It's no problem. Before I leave, let me catch you up to speed on what I've been doing."

"Sounds good." Danny followed Hawkes into the Trace lab. Stella and Mac watched the two discuss. They saw Hawkes say something that, surprisingly, got a laugh out of Danny. Danny fired something back, and now it was Hawkes that was grinning.

"Uh-oh," Stella teased. "You'll never get him out of there now," she said.

Mac smiled. "Sheldon follows orders. One of them is that he's supposed to go home."

"Mmmhmmm. Good luck with that one." Stella smiled. "I'll go chase Sheldon out of there for you," she offered. Before Mac could say anything one way or the other, Stella was in the lab.

It was the last instance of normal before chaos broke out.

Mac watched her mock-scold Danny and Hawkes. Then, Hawkes was on his way out. "Man, she's somethin' else," Hawkes said, smiling and shaking his head.

Mac nodded, thinking back to the fire. He remembered Flack and Stella, their arms around each other. "Yes, she is," he replied, with only the slightest tinge of regret. "Go on. Get some sleep. See you tomorrow."

Hawkes could tell something was up, but didn't want to press the issue. "Sure. I'll be here."

In the lab, Danny picked up his cell phone. His brow furrowed. He showed the LCD screen to Stella. She looked confused. Then, she motioned for Mac to come inside.

"What?" Mac asked her.

Stella nodded to Danny, who was on his phone. "That's Greg Lohman," she said. "Something's not right."


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: This chapter overlaps with Chapter 11.**

**------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Chapter Twelve

"I'll see you guys later," Hawkes said as he left the lab.

Danny's cell phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and frowned.

Restricted Number.

"Greg." Danny didn't even bother playing stupid this time. He showed the screen to Stella.

Stella looked up and crooked a finger at Mac to come inside. Mac came inside. "What?" he asked.

"That's Greg Lohman," Stella whispered to him. "Something's not right."

"_Danny. Why won't you reopen my brother's case?"_

"Because, Greg, it's a sixteen year old cold case. They didn't have enough evidence in '91, what's left is probably long gone. There's nothing for us to go on!" Danny tried to tell him. "We have nowhere to even start!"

_"I've seen all those shows on TV. There's always something!" _Greg yelled.

"You need help, man. Please, man, just come down to the precinct. We'll talk this over."

"_Why does it pay for me to come down there? You'll just ignore me."_

"Nobody's ignoring you, Greg, what in the hell are you talking about?"

_"You left the crime scene last night."_ Greg accused.

Danny, by this time, had the phone on speaker so Stella and Mac could hear. "One of my friends needed some moral support, because of the detective that _you_ killed," Danny told him.

_"It wasn't my idea for that stupid five-oh to go in there. He made that decision all on his lonesome."_

"Doesn't matter, Greg. You started the fire. You killed him."

_"Whatever. Why'd you leave, Danny?"_ Suddenly, Greg's voice took a change. He sounded like the little boy Danny had occasionally seen around the neighborhood when he was seventeen. _"Why'd you leave?"_

"You hurt one of my friends, Greg. You killed someone he works with. Someone he saw every single day."

"_I didn't want to,"_ Greg protested. _"I didn't want to hurt anyone. I just wanted you to reopen David's case! But you couldn't do that for me."_

"Greg, I told you-"

_"Just stop! I can tell you don't care. You were never that close with David, I understand that. And I was just a kid. I get it, okay? You're just like everyone else. Mom and Dad sent me away because they couldn't deal with me. Nobody ever wrote me or called me or visited. Even my own brother stayed away. They left me alone!"_

"You're not gettin' any sympathy, pal!" Danny exploded. Mac put a hand on his arm to remind him to stay in charge.

Silence. For a second, Danny thought Greg had hung up. _"This guy I hurt…were you with him at the bar last night?"_

Danny froze. "What?"

_"Is that all I am to you, Danny? Just a blast from the past? Do you not care about what I do? Who I hurt?"_

"What are you talking about?" Danny asked him.

_"You went out for drinks last night with a couple of people. You drove the one girl home. She worth more to you than me?"_

"Greg." Danny felt himself on the verge of yelling again. He really didn't like where this line of questioning was going. "Greg, what did you do with her?"

_"So you ask about her first? What about the other guy? I saw you two together. You look close. Like…brothers."_

"Greg!" Danny said sharply. "Greg…what did you do?"

_"I'm curious, Danny. I mean, I'm burning down buildings, that's not enough to get your attention? Enough to get you to do this one little thing for me?"_

Mac nodded to Danny. _Bluff it_, his eyes said. "Okay, Greg. Okay. I'll see what I can do about David's case. Where are Flack and Lindsay?"

_"Her name's Lindsay? Yeah, yeah she looked like a Lindsay. What about the other guy? Flack? What the hell kind of name is that?"_

"His last name. Greg, what did you do?"

"_I just…I wanted to get your attention. I figured this would do it!"_ Greg started. _"Nobody cares about me. I wanted someone to notice me...someone to help me!"_

"Greg!"

"_I'm sorry Danny, but you gotta pick. I didn't mean for this to happen. I swear! But you gotta pick. Your best friend? The girlfriend?"_

"Greg…" Danny wanted to come through the phone line and strangle the kid. "Greg. What do you mean, pick?"

_"I started two fires. One in the Bronx. One in Manhattan. They both should be burning pretty slow now. But they'll pick up, they're older buildings. There's one person in each. Whichever one you're gonna get to first, that's who lives. I'm sorry I didn't allow enough time for both, but I think the one in the Bronx is gonna burn faster."_ Greg almost sounded remorseful. _"Look, I'll give you the addresses. I'm sorry, Danny. I didn't think you'd open my brother's case again. I'm sorry. I hope you make a good decision, Danny. And I'm sorry."_

He rattled off two addresses, both of which Stella committed to memory immediately. And then he hung up the phone.

Danny had to grip the table in a white-knuckle grip to keep from falling over. _Flack…Lindsay…God. My nightmares. My nightmares, they're coming true!_


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of CSI:NY; they belong to CBS and Anthony Zuiker.**

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Chapter Thirteen

"Mac…I can't…what are we…I don't…" Danny couldn't speak. He could barely breathe. _I can't choose. I can't decide. Flack? Lindsay? Please, God, don't make me pick! I can't! What kind of person decides to get someone's attention like this?_

"Hold on, Danny." Mac told him, keeping his grip on Danny's arm. "The first thing we're going to do is call the fire department."

"I got it," Stella said, picking up her phone.

"The next thing that's going to happen is that we're going to send a squad car to the location where Greg was calling you from. We tapped your phone. We're going to get him, Danny. And finally, I am going to the Bronx. Whoever is in that building, I will get them out. You won't have to choose, we're going to save them both. You're going to the Manhattan fire."

Mac snapped his fingers and pointed. "Don't argue. Go on. Get going."

Danny practically flew from the room after Stella gave him the address. "Engines on their way, but they're spread pretty thin," she said. "Some five alarm high rise fire…not related to our little arsonist."

"Let's just hope our fires won't turn into anything big," Mac said.

"Where do you think Flack is?" Stella wondered.

Mac shook his head. "I don't know. But we're going to get him out." He saw it in her eyes- it wasn't a preference, Flack over Lindsay. What it was-she wasn't choosing between those two…she was choosing between Flack and someone else. In that moment, Mac knew how things were going to be. "He'll be all right, Stella."

She looked at her friend. "I hope you're right."

"Let's get going. You can ride with me to the Bronx."

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**_Manhattan_**

When Danny pulled in to the address, he was surprised to find that he'd beaten the firefighters there, and that the place was only smoking. Disregarding every ounce of training he'd ever been given, Danny went straight through the front door, into the smoke.

Instantly, it was like being back in his nightmares again. The only exception being, he didn't know if he was looking for Flack or Lindsay. So he opted for both. "Lindsay! Flack!" He kicked in doors, amazed that no one was in the building. Then he recalled seeing a "closed for demolition" sign outside. "Montana? Flack? Come on, someone talk to me!"

Then the door in front of him started to glow. Flames started licking the doorframe. _This is it._ Briefly, he heard sirens. He ignored them, moving deeper into the building.

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**_The Bronx_**

Mac Taylor saw the smoke and used it like a homing beacon. It was a small house. There was no car in the driveway. A lone fire engine had already beaten him there. The Chief introduced himself as Corrigan.

"I think we've got a man down in there," Mac told him. "I'm going to go in there and look before that place gets any worse."

Corrigan could see it in the younger man's eyes that he wasn't going to listen to reason. "This is Kendall. He'll accompany you," he said.

Mac turned to the young firefighter. "Good to have you," he said. He shed his suit jacket. "Let's go."

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**_Manhattan_**

"Anybody in here?" Danny Messer yelled. He had been kicking in doors. He tried to think like Greg- _where would I keep someone?_ He had to assume whichever of his friends was in the building was incapacitated somehow. Maybe unable to answer back.

The fire was building, now. He'd been trying to ignore the firefighters, hoping they wouldn't tell him he had to exit the building. Danny approached the unit on the end of the second floor, and prayed he wouldn't have to go up to three. He kicked in the door. "Montana?" he yelled into the smoke, coughing. "Flack?"

Then he saw it. Over in the corner. A still, unmoving form. He picked his way through the apartment over to that spot.

Don Flack looked like hell. He was sporting a nice purple bruise on the back of his head. But he was breathing. Danny knew moving him was risky, but trying to wait for help and risk the building burning down around him was worse. Gently, he put his hands underneath Flack's armpits and began gingerly dragging him out of the room.

A firefighter passed by the door, and Danny called, "Hey! In here!" He worried that the guy hadn't heard him- he was pretty hoarse. But, thank God, the firefighter came back. "Who the hell are you? What the hell are you doing in here?"

"D-Danny Messer. Crime Scene."

"Detective, you're in a bad spot. We gotta get ya out of here."

Danny convulsed into a coughing fit. "N-No arguments, here." He motioned to Flack. "Help me, please."

The firefighter lifted Flack's legs, and together he and Danny worked to carry him outside.

"Get this guy some O2!" the firefighter yelled when he and Danny finally worked themselves out of the building. Danny had been in the building a little over an hour, and the smoke in his lungs was killing him. Someone tried to get him over to an ambulance, but Danny shrugged them away.

"Him first," he said, gasping and pointing to Flack. Someone began working on the detective. Danny watched his friend intently. They strapped an oxygen mask over Flack's nose and mouth and someone worked on patching up his head.

"We're gonna have to get him to a hospital," someone said. They looked at Danny. "You should be looked at, too."

Danny shook his head. "I'm fine," he said, coughing, yet trying to make it seem like no big deal. "What I could use is a ride to the Bronx."


	14. Chapter 14

**Holy smokes, mackie80, that wasn't a review, it was a novel! Thanks for the constructive criticism, I appreciate it! This one is near finished, here's the second to last chapter!**

**------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Chapter Fourteen

**_The Bronx_**

Stella Bonasera saw him sitting on the curb. He had his arms curled around his knees, looking very much like a scared little boy. She kept her gun out, but called his name. "Greg?"

He looked up. "Are-are you here to help me? His voice was small.

She wasn't sure what to say. So she didn't say anything. She just picked him up by the arm and cuffed him.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mac Taylor kept one hand on the firefighter in front of him. The halls were smoky and dark. It was almost impossible to see. Night was beginning to descend on New York City. Pretty much the only light came from Kendall's flashlight, and the occasional flames. Mac's eyes stung from the smoke.

"Flack?" Mac called out. "Lindsay?"

"Sir, we're going to have to get you out of here. You're not equipped for this," Kendall told Mac. The young firefighter started to turn around.

Mac knew he was right. "Let me go out and get suited up, then come back," he suggested. The kid looked at him doubtfully. He was always one to respect his elders, but this guy...

"Sir, I don't know if my captain'll like that all that much," Kendall told him.

Mac looked at him. The look scared Kendall a little. It was hardened, and there was fire in the older man's eyes. "I made a promise. The longer we stand here and talk, the less time my team member has. I'm getting them out, one way or the other."

Kendall sighed. The detective was a man on a mission. Judging by his tone, he was the type to see every action through until the end.

Kendall nodded. "Okay." He gave the detective a taste of his oxygen bottle. The detective gave him a thumbs up. He put a hand on Kendall's shoulder again, and they continued the search.

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Against the advice of every single person at the fire in Manhattan, Danny Messer ended up with a police escort to the Bronx. He was still suffering from minor smoke inhalation. He was sporting a nice hacking cough. Flack had been taken to the hospital. Danny prayed fervently that his best friend was all right, that he'd gotten to him in time.

Danny was scared. Lindsay was still MIA. Greg had said the Bronx building would burn faster. He prayed that Mac was making good on his promise to get her out.

Flames leaped at the sky when Danny arrived in front of the house in the Bronx. To his dismay, most of the house was up in flames. He looked around furtively, trying to find a familiar face. He ducked under the barricades.

"Hey! You've got to stand-"

Danny flashed his badge. "I'm looking for Mac Taylor." His tone said _Don't screw with me._

The guy in charge tossed a thumb back at the building. "He's in there."

"What?"

"They're conducting search and rescue."

"Search and rescue? That building's about to fall over!" Danny said incredulously. "They're still in there?" _Boy. when Mac Taylor makes you a promise..._

"It appears there's a detective in there somewhere," the firefighter said. "Taylor said he wasn't comin' out without her."

_Thank you, Mac._ Without another thought, Danny brushed past the firefighter and practically sprinted into the building.

"Detective!" the firefighter yelled behind him. He looked at the building, where the roof was starting to cave. _Good luck, buddy._

_-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

"Mac!" Danny yelled through the haze. "Mac!" A beam fell behind him, sending embers flying. Danny pressed forward, keeping his arm over his mouth and nose as a very primitive mask. "Mac!"

Someone in a firefighter's getup appeared in front of him. He whipped off his mask long enough to yell, "You're not supposed to be in here!"

"Where's Mac Taylor?" Danny demanded.

"Danny?"

Danny saw someone standing there with a handkerchief tied over his face, and a dress shirt and tie. "Mac! Where is she? Have you found Lindsay yet?"

"Danny, you need to get out of here. Now!" Mac's eyes flashed. _What the hell is he doing here?_

"No way. Not without Lindsay. Not without you!"

"Danny, _get the hell out of here_!"

Unfortunately for Mac, Danny was too damned stubborn for his own good. "No!"

Much as Mac hated to admit it, he wasn't gonna win this one. "Fine!" he yelled back. "Check those rooms over there!"

Danny took a swig of oxygen from the firefighter, and then kicked in the door of the room in front of him. It was the second door he'd kicked in today, but an adrenaline plus a rigorous workout schedule wouldn't let him feel a thing. The door dropped to the floor with a resounding crash, and Danny gave the place a once-over.

It hit him like a brick. _This is the place from my nightmare!_ It took him by surprise, and for a moment, he just stopped. Crackling echoed in his ears. The room was threatening to fall to pieces. But Danny was strangely calm. The nightmares that had plagued him were now his saving grace. Danny knew exactly where to look…and what to watch out for. The layout of the room was the same. His heart caught in his throat, and blood pounded in his ears. _Over there...just a little to the left_-

_Lindsay_. She was lying on the floor, unconscious. Danny was relieved to feel a nice, strong pulse. _Thank God_. "Lindsay?" he asked. "Montana, talk to me!" He picked her up gingerly and began making his way out of the room. The floor creaked beneath him, and he picked up the pace. He could hear people in the hall yelling his name. "In here!" Danny yelled, coughing. _Maybe I shoulda listened to the paramedics..._

To his surprise, someone heard him. Mac Taylor came inside. "You found her!"

"Yeah, yeah, c'mon, let's get outta here." Danny was tensed and ready, because he knew what might happen next. He kept an open ear out for the distinct-

Sure enough. He heard a snapping sound. "Mac!" Danny slammed into his boss and threw the three of them forward and out of the direction of the falling piece of ceiling. They hit the ground hard, Danny twisting so he bore the brunt of the fall. Lindsay landed softly-for her, anyway- on top of him. Mac slammed into the floor next to them.

Mac looked back to see the charred mess on the floor, where he had been standing only a moment earlier. "How did-"

"Later, Mac. Let's get outta here!"


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of CSI:NY; they belong to CBS and Anthony Zuiker.**

**------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Chapter Fifteen

Don Flack awoke to the face of Stella Bonasera. "Hi, you," she said, smiling warmly at him. "You're finally awake, huh, Sleeping Beauty?"

He laughed, and winced. "Considering this is the first break I've had in how many days? I'm gonna milk this for all it's worth," he said, his voice scratchy.

"Do you remember what happened?" Stella asked him.

He shook his head slowly. "Uh…no. Not really." He looked at her. "What happened?"

She smiled. "Tell ya later." She reached for his hand and squeezed it. "Oh yeah, by the way. We got him, Don. We got him for you."

Flack closed his eyes and smiled. "Great." He opened one eye and looked at Stella. "Where's everyone else?"

Stella pointed. "Lindsay's across the hall. Danny and Mac are making sure she's okay."

"Lindsay?" Flack asked. "What happened to her?"

"Same thing that happened to you," Stella explained. "But she's fine. Her voice sounds a little like yours, and she's got some cuts and scrapes, but otherwise she's fine. I'll tell ya the whole story later." Then she decided to mess with him a little. "So...what? You don't want me here? Did you want to wake up to Mac...or Adam instead?"

"I never said that," Flack protested, then shook his head when Stella smiled at him. "You were kidding, huh?"

She nodded. "I'm afraid so." Her eyes laughed at him.

"I'm glad you're here," he said honestly. Out of everyone in the world, Stella Bonasera was the woman he wanted to wake up to.

She held his hand. "I'm glad you're okay. Don't do that again."

Flack nodded. "Promise," he whispered.

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"…an' it was just like my dream, Montana, down to the last detail!"

"I don't understand why you didn't just say something," Lindsay replied.

"I didn't want you to worry," Danny said.

Lindsay rolled her eyes. "We'll talk about this later." She looked from Danny to Mac. "Is Flack okay?"

Mac nodded. "He's across the hall. Stella's with him."

Lindsay smiled. "Good." She looked at Danny. "And Greg Lohman?"

"Busted," Danny said. "In for psychiatric help, I hope." He looked down at her. "You sure you're okay?"

"You pretty much saved my life. Aside from this nice smoker's cough I'm sporting, I'm okay," Lindsay said. She coughed here, to prove her point. Danny smiled at her.

"Thanks for coming to find me," Lindsay told Mac.

"You're my best CSI," Mac replied easily.

"Hey!" Danny protested, and Mac laughed at him.

"Relax, Danny, I'm kidding." Mac put a hand on Lindsay's shoulder. "It's nice to have you back."

"Feels good to be alive," Lindsay replied, meaning it. "Feels really good." She glanced around and sighed. "I'm so sick of hospitals."

Mac and Danny both laughed. "We'll try to spring you out as soon as possible," Mac told her. He glanced across the hall. "I'll um, talk to you two later."

Lindsay caught the subtle undertone, but she wasn't sure if Danny did. "Um, okay," she replied, watching him leave. When he was gone, she turned to Danny. "So. This dream of yours. Have you ever had anything like it before?"

He thought about it. "Actually, yes. Remember the Gimatto case?"

Lindsay winced at the memory. "Unfortunately."

Danny continued, "Just before we got to the hospital, I felt this…I dunno, like, you know the feeling you get when you know something bad is about to happen?" When she nodded, he continued, "Okay. So we're pulling Vic Malone's body from the river, an' I just get this feeling. Like something's not okay. I told everybody we had to get back to the hospital. If we hadn't gotten there when we did…"

He stopped, embarrassed. "Sorry. Freaking you out?"

Lindsay took his hand. "No. In fact, just the opposite. It feels good knowing we've got that kind of connection. It's…reassuring."

Danny said, "I don't ever want to lose you, Montana."

Lindsay smiled. "You aren't going to. I love you." Then she said, "But I think we _both_ need a vacation."

"I second that. Something exotic. Miami, maybe."

"Sounds perfect," Lindsay told him. "One of these days when we actually have some time off."

"I'm counting the days." Danny leaned down and kissed her. In that moment, he made a promise to himself.

Lindsay Monroe was _the_ one. And he'd go through hell to get to her.

He'd proven that today. And he'd do it again.

Danny gazed at the woman who stole his heart...and sniffed. "Montana, you smell awful," he said.

"What?" Lindsay yelped. "Danny Messer, you're such a jerk!" Then she smiled. "Yeah? Well you're not much better. You've got that rugged bonfire scent going on."

He sniffed his T-shirt. "Chicks dig an outdoors guy," he said.

"Please," Lindsay scoffed. "You're as far from it as possible."

He leaned in. "You're insulting me, Montana?"

She nodded. "You bet I am. You did it first."

He kissed her. "Yeah? What do you think about that?"

Lindsay closed her eyes. "Bring it on, I can take you," she whispered.

Danny grinned. "You're on..."

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**The end of another one! Thanks so much to ALL my reviewers, notesofwimsey, chili-peppers, mackie80, messermonroe, messermontana4ever (your review made me laugh, I had to stop and think about it! "Danny as a 3 year old" LOVE IT!) and everyone who was there from the start! Another one is in the works... Anyone interested?**


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